


Like New

by opalmatrix



Category: Old Kingdom - Nix
Genre: Disability, Family, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Yuletide, Yuletide 2009
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things can't be fixed, even with the arts of the Wallmakers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like New

**Author's Note:**

  * For [echoinautumn (maybetwice)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybetwice/gifts).



> Occurs after the end of the Abhorsen trilogy and refers obliquely to significant events from the series. Un-beta'ed .. sorry!

The outcropping of the castle that contained the little room was almost a round tower - but not quite. It was exposed to the elements along almost two-thirds of its circumference, and the fireplace in the room within was uncomfortably near the door. Lirael preferred it to almost any other room in the castle because the exposed walls were set with windows, one after the other: ten of them, all told. And the position of the room meant that one of the windows looked south-southwest, and one north-northwest.

South-southwest, toward the Red Lake, and Ancelstierre, and Nick. North-northwest, toward the Glacier and her first family.

Lirael gripped the sill of the open south-southwest window with the new hand. She still could not think of it as part of her. The window frame was iron set in stone: she did not need to worry about breaking it, the way she had broken a wineglass last night and the spine of a book this morning. She looked out at the houses and buildings of Belisaere, clustered under the walls of the castle and the unsettled skies of early spring, and squeezed the windowsill as hard as she could. She could definitely feel _something_ beneath the golden fingers; perhaps she could almost feel the hardness of the iron. She turned her head, her face alight for a moment, her lips parted as though to speak.

The room was empty of any other living presence.

She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. Cool air from the outdoors filled her nose and her lungs. She would not cry. She had done enough of that - more than enough.

There was a knock at the door, and a familiar voice: "Lirael?"

She released the windowsill and looked at the palm of the hand. He had marked it with lines, as though it were a real hand. But they were the lines of the missing hand's mate: not right. She sighed. "Come in, Sam."

The door swung open. Prince Sameth's enthusiasm was shining from his face - but then, that was his normal state these days. "I have some more Charter marks to add to your hand!"

Of course he did. With his parents' blessing, and the resources of the entire Kingdom, and new discoveries of ancient books in locations formerly inaccessible because of infestations of the Dead, Sameth was discovering lost works of the Wallmakers almost weekly, it seemed. Lirael shifted around on the window seat and carefully arranged both hands in her lap, the one that was hers on top and the one that was becoming hers beneath. "What will I be able to do after this?"

"Well, I think this will really help with the pressure problem - so you'll know how hard you're gripping something. And ... well, let me go ahead and do it. If it works, it'll be a surprise."

Sameth put his notes and the small sack that he carried on the little table near the door, and then pulled the table and a chair over to where Lirael was sitting. He sat and held out one of his own strong, clever hands toward her, and she laid the golden hand in his. He glanced at his notes, and began to chant. Glowing Charter marks grew into existence on the golden surface of the hand, flowing and clustering, forming patterns and breaking them again. Suddenly she _felt_ something: "Oooh, that itches!"

Sam flicked his glance toward her face, but his voice hardly hesitated - in fact, his chanting quickened in rhythm, and in a few moments, he ended on a rising note that was full of enthusiasm. The uncomfortable sensation in the palm of the golden hand ceased.

"You really felt something?"

"I did! I could hardly keep myself from scratching it!"

"That's great! Let's see what you can do with it now."

He pulled the sack open and rummaged around. He brought out a series of carefully wrapped little bundles that proved to be a cup of thin porcelain, then a wineglass, and lastly, an egg. "Try to pick them up."

Her lips felt suddenly dry. She reached out cautiously. The hand seemed to weigh less on the end of her arm than it had before. She closed the fingers gently around the cup. It really did seem as though she could feel its smooth sides, although the sensation was distant and muted. She lifted it, cradling it with fingers and palm, and held it out to Sam, who grinned. "Excellent!"

She put the cup down, cautiously. It rattled slightly as it settled on the table. She took the wineglass next, doing her best to handle it like a soap bubble. It was lighter than the cup - and she realized, to her amazement, that she was feeling that sensation of weight in the hand, and not just as a shift of mass at the end of her arm. She bobbled the glass momentarily as she raised it from the table and felt panic for a second - and then realized that she had recovered her grasp on it without breaking it. "Oh! That's much better, Sam!"

"Isn't it? Now the egg - I have a towel here, too, in case you need it. But I bet you won't."

Lirael concentrated as she set the glass down on the table. This time, the object hardly shivered as she transferred it to the surface. She took a breath, shifting shoulders that she'd hardly noticed were tightening, and reached for the egg.

It was more awkward than either of the drinking vessels. As she drew her hand away from the table with its slight burden, she thought she felt it slipping and quickly rotated her hand to cradle the fragile thing. To her dismay, it seemed that something gave way beneath her fingers. "I think I've broken it."

Sam looked chagrined as well, but then he brightened. "How do you know? I don't see any cracks!"

"Because I f- ... oh, Sam! I felt it break under my fingers! Look!"

Lirael held out the egg, opening her golden fingers slightly. Sure enough, the smooth surface was marred by two little cracked hollows where the fingertips had pressed against the shell. She carefully transferred the egg to the cup - and managed it without damaging either any farther. Then she ran her fingertips over the edge of the table, her own skirt-covered knee, and the stone wall. Sam watched with interest.

"What does it feel like?"

"Rather like I'm wearing thick gloves. But I can feel the difference between the surfaces!"

"Very good! Now let's try something else. Close your eyes and hold out your new hand."

Lirael closed her eyes as tightly as she could and did as he asked. She could hear him rummaging around in the sack again. Then something small and cylindrical and rather heavy was placed in her hand. "Is this hot? Or cold?"

"Oh ... cold!"

"Very good - that flask is full of fresh well water. And now - what about this?"

The shape seemed identical. "Hot ... oh, even a little too hot! Ow!" Sam hastily removed the flask from her grasp. "But I thought it ... my new hand wouldn't burn?"

"Yes, but it's important that you don't pick up something too hot for your other hand, or for someone else's hand - right? Now, how about this?"

"I think ... warm. Yes - warmer than the first flask, and not as hot as the second."

"That's perfect! Open your eyes - testing is over."

He was grinning. "You're wonderful, Sam - I'm sure the Wallmakers would have been proud of you."

To her amusement, he ducked his head a little and flushed. "Well, that's all I've got for you today. But I've got some more ideas. In fact, in a week or three, I bet your hand will be just like before."

It was impossible not to smile back at him. "Oh, Sam! That's incredible news."

They heard a shout from below, then: apparently, the noon meal was ready. Sam nodded at the door. "Coming?"

"You go ahead. I want to put these books away, now that I know I won't hurt them."

"I'll tell them you're coming, then - and that you have something to show them!"

Sam gathered up his props and his notes and strode out of the room. Lirael could hear him racing down the stairs beyond as she gathered up the books and tucked them carefully into the narrow shelves on each side of the fireplace. She could feel the difference between the leather of the covers and wood of the shelves, but she could only barely perceive the differing textures of the leather and the paper within. Still, if Sam was right, in less than a month, she would feel these things clearly.

A month would pass soon enough. Far too soon, in fact, to forget the feel of other things: a warm presence leaning against her leg, for example, or rough, damp fur beneath her fingers.

 


End file.
